


ambrosia

by abandonment (ihunger)



Series: Kloktober - 2020 [4]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cannibalism, Emetophobia, Gen, Magnus Hammersmith is a very fucked up individual, Maybe Magic Maybe Mundane, Mentions of choking, Post-Episode: s04 The Doomstar Requiem, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex is mentioned a few times but no graphic sexual content, autocannibalism, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihunger/pseuds/abandonment
Summary: “I ate part of Magnus,” Toki says – no, babbles. “Some of his skins. Best things I have evers tasted.”A silence falls on the room. No one knows where to look or how to react. Nathan spares a glance at Toki to see the man is staring at him with those wide eyes. They look less grey-blue and more black. It must be the darker skin around them. Nathan tells himself that because the other answer is horrible.
Relationships: Implied Polyklok
Series: Kloktober - 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948789
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a strange dream i had, in which there was a zombie like virus called "ambrosia". in the dream, ambrosia was a plant like substance. eating it made you obsessed with tasting something that good again, which made the zombies start to eat people. i decided to do something similar.
> 
> i worry this may be a bit too obtuse and abstract but i still like it. may be part of kloktober if i can't think of anything good after writing this.
> 
> officially updated to being a kloktober day 4 fic. both villain and family related, really.

“What isch the most perfect thing you’ve ever eaten?”

The question is an icebreaker at best, first day of class shit that they would’ve found stupid in high school. It’s something to break the tension in the living room, though, so they answer.

“I had this really good pizza once, this little shithole back home. Tasted perfect,” Pickles answers.

“I amns not sure,” Skwisgaar says. “My mothers made good Kalops. Swedish stew things. Very tasty and warms.”

Nathan picks at the skin around his nails and watches blood begin to bead. “I uh, I don’t know. I’m not a fancy food guy. I think Mac and Cheese is perfect though, honestly.”

Everyone nods in agreement. Murderface is the next to answer. “I think it’sch schteak. You can’t go wrong with schteak.”

Another universal nod. It allows them all to delay looking at Toki. They care for him and that makes looking at him hard right now. He is gaunt and in pain and has the look of someone who has been in just about every war ever. He stares not at his brothers but the wall of the room. They don’t expect an answer. It would be cruel to expect him to speak about food after he just starved for months. They’re about to move on when Toki jerks his head forward and coughs, spewing out phlegm. His eyes are hazy.

“I ate part of Magnus,” he says – no, babbles. “Some of his skins. Best things I have evers tasted.”

A silence falls on the room. No one knows where to look or how to react. Nathan spares a glance at Toki to see the man is staring at him with those wide eyes. They look less grey-blue and more black. It must be the darker skin around them. Nathan tells himself that because the other answer is horrible. Toki is expecting a reply.

“That’s uh. That’s something.”

It’s a pathetic answer but Nathan cannot begin to address this. He wants to get up and move. He wants Toki to stop looking at him with hunger in his eyes. 

“Ja. I wants to tastes it again.”

The rest of Dethklok wants to look at each other but any sort of movement feels like they’re going to aggravate Toki. 

Toki smiles. “Sorries. I shoulds have saveds some for you alls to try.”

“Yeah, Toki,” Pickles is the one to speak now and the fear in his voice is evident. “Yeah, that’s uh. That’s a shame.”

There is a wave of movement in the room. Toki stands and everyone else scoots away from them as subtly as they can in case he starts charging. They’re all capable of taking him down, especially in this state, but they would rather it not come to that. 

“I am goings to go into my rooms.” Toki walks off. 

Skwisgaar makes a strangled noise as soon as he is out of view. “What in the everlovings fucks was that.”

No one can answer. Nathan wants to be about six fingers deep into a bottle of whiskey right now just to erase the entire conversation before, and he’s going to start now. He grabs a bottle from the table besides him and starts to chug, ignoring the burn in the core of his chest and the liquid dripping down the sides of his mouth. No one is even judging him, because how can they? Skwisgaar stands.

“I needs to go do an entire bags of cokes. Rights now.”

He leaves too. Dethklok does not speak to each other the rest of the night. They take their drug fueled hazes as the gift that they are. 

–

Nathan has another whale dream that night. He is in the depths of the ocean and, like all of these dreams, he can feel all of it. He can feel the liquid entering his lungs and he can feel brine stick to his skin. When he wakes up, he will need to take a shower to wash off the feeling of salt water.

For now, he is here. He feels safe.

There is one word spoken in this dream. No riddle or sign of prophecy.

A warning.

“Ambrosia.”

Nathan wakes up with a gasp and the pain of drowning in his throat. He spits salt water onto the floor before stumbling into his bathroom. The shower is too claustrophobic now but it is the only way he can wash this dream off of him. The word sits on the tip of his tongue the entire time he is awake, though. Ambrosia. 

Food of the Gods. Even Nathan knows that, remembers it from some middle school class about Greek myth.

He brushes his teeth. His gums bleed slightly and he tastes copper.

Ambrosia.

He needs to drink more. Sobriety is not an option today.

When he walks into the kitchen, the rest of his band are sitting there eating. Even Toki is taking small bites of some disgustingly bright cereal. Things feel normal, or at least look normal. Nathan can pretend that he’s doing okay. He can pretend this never happened.

He scarfs down some bagels and washes them down with tequila. He knows that Pickles is burning holes into his back for that but he can’t care. He needs something that can dull the pain more than usual. Anger is a better, more manageable emotion than sadness for him. Anger can be cured by breaking some of his equipment or the windows. Sadness, though, that sits on a person and refuses to leave.

“Good mornings,” Toki says. Skwisgaar jumps at the noise.

“Morning. How are you uh. Feeling?” Nathan can’t not ask. It would be cruel.

Toki shrugs with one shoulder. “I ams doing okays, I guess. I talks to Twinkletits this mornings.”

Morning? Nathan looks at the clock and sees that it’s about 3 PM. Huh. 

“Cool. How did that go?”

“It wents nice. He is a goods therapist.”

For some reason, no one feels relieved. Even if Toki says he is okay, that means nothing. Toki always says he’s okay. Things only get more tense when Toki moves and the sleeve of his shirt (he never wears long sleeved shirts, why is he wearing long sleeved shirts) reveals a red bite mark on his arm. There seems to be a small chunk of skin missing. Nathan’s stomach churns.

“Toki, are you uh.” He motions to the mark. “Are you okay?”

Toki’s eyes widen and he tugs his sleeve down. “I amns fines. I haves to goes… uh.” His chair falls over with the force that he gets up and leaves. The band watches. Nathan is about to bring his dream up when Pickles heaves and vomits all over the table. 

“What the fuck are we doin’,” Pickles wails. “What did he do to that kid?”

Nathan goes to find Toki and leaves the others to clean up the mess. Well, leaves the others to find some Klokateers to clean up the mess. Skwisgaar wouldn’t be caught dead cleaning up vomit, and Murderface was Murderface.

The hallway down to Toki’s bedroom is speckled in blood and salt water but Nathan is not surprised by this. He feels his bare feet step into puddles of liquid and he feels his muscles tense in an attempt to keep him from moving. There is something metallic in the air. There is blood under Toki’s door. Despite himself, Nathan swings the door open without even knocking.

Toki is on the floor. He is curled up on himself and he is biting off chunks of his skin and swallowing them down. Tears stream down his face and he doesn’t move even as Nathan moves closer, closer, closer. They are connected in many ways and this is one of the most horrible as Nathan can feel his skin start to open and bleed. There are no wounds there but just watching this act, this autocannibalism, fills him with the urge to start doing it to himself. Would he taste good, covered in alcohol and sweat? Is his blood as pure as Toki’s, would it weigh the same on his tongue?

Nathan leans down and starts to gather Toki up into his arms. The young man goes limp and finally stops biting himself, and that’s when Nathan becomes aware that he has been crying this whole time. He steps over the skin floating in a pool of red liquid. He sits on Toki’s bed. There are shattered photo frames all over the floor. 

They have to go to get medical attention but Nathan just holds Toki close and begins to weep into the man’s hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “We should have come sooner. I’m so sorry he did this to you.”

Toki’s voice is breathy when he replies. “I was hungries. He tolds me we coulds be closer.”

“He made you eat him.”

“It was delicious.”

“It was all you had.”

“It tasted betters than anythings I’ve ever had before.”

“You were scared.”

“Abigail did not lets me try her. She saids I was goings crazy.”

“You were. Are. That’s okay.”

Nathan cannot bring himself to move which makes the sound of people rushing down the hall all the better. He expected the Klokateers but not Charles standing between them, eyes scanning every inch of the scene before him.

“Murderface called. Jesus fuck, what is going on?”

Toki tilts his head back to look at Charles, and he smiles to show the bits of skin stuck between his teeth. “I amns doings what I needs to.”

It takes several Klokateers to get Toki out of Nathan’s arms. Nathan isn’t even trying to prevent them from taking Toki, but he can’t let go no matter how hard he tries. Charles stands to the side and watches them take Toki away. 

“He keeps eating himself,” Nathan says though he is not proud of how his voice shakes. “He ate himself. What the fuck?”

Charles looks down at his feet. Something is seeping into the edges of his robes. He’ll need to get new ones as cleaning these would now be an impossibility.

“This isn’t in the prophecy.” 

“You’re still on that fucking prophecy? Charles, I just watched my brother eat himself in front of me. I don’t think that this magic bullshit is going to save us now. There’s something wrong with him.”

“That’s not what I meant by that. I mean that this isn’t magic. This is something with him, what happened to him. We can fix this.”

Nathan’s laugh is loud and pained. “Fuck, you think we can fix this?”

“I know we can.” Charles does not turn to face Nathan and Nathan is glad. He doesn’t want to see the pain etched on Charles’ face, the guilt of having not been there sooner. 

“He said he ate a part of Magnus. I had another dream last night.”

Charles rolls his shoulders back. “I did too. What did she say to you?”

“Ambrosia.”

Charles scoffs though it may be his attempt at a laugh. 

“Ouroboros.”

–

No one in Dethklok is a stranger to self destructive behavior, though it manifested in many different ways. Pickles drinks were sometimes punctuated by intentional bar fights just so he could feel something. Murderface’s wrists and thighs are covered in small, dull scars that the band never brings up even when they see them. None of them look new, and that’s all that they need to know. Skwisgaar uses sex, gets into relationships he knows will not fulfill him, allows his partners to choke him even though it brings him no arousal.

Nathan ran the entire gauntlet of things. Cutting, drinking, smoking, fighting, shitty sex, even shittier boyfriends, the worst thrills money could buy him. He refuses to pity himself for these behaviors, because they are undeserved. Everyone else has their reasons. An excuse to dip deep into the world of debauchery and pain. He can’t think of a reason that he does these things. His childhood was happy and benign. He got shitty grades, sure, but he had a family that supported him and friends that were there for him. So why did he spend so much of his teen years locked in a high school bathroom with a razor blade that he stole from his father?

There was no answer to be found. Nathan tells himself it is selfishness. 

He self harms for the first time in years the night of Toki’s breakdown. He digs fingernails into his skin before moving on to sharper objects. He watches blood drip down his arms and doesn’t clean it until he is completely done.

He drinks. Pours some vodka onto the wounds. Drinks more. Passes out in his bed and dreams of a whale and salt water. Doesn’t remember the dream when he wakes up. Showers. Walks into the kitchen.

Charles is still at Mordhaus, clearly believes that they need some babysitting. He is coordinating breakfast for everyone and has a plate of bacon and eggs set out for Nathan already. 

One spot at the table is empty.

Nathan sits down. He manages to choke down some of the food. Everyone else seems just as uninterested in eating.

“So. Uh, I suppose you all will want to know how Toki is doing.” Charles clasps his hands in front of him and even with those somewhat silly robes, he looks just as professional as he did when he was their manager.

“Isch he alive?”

“Yes, Murderface, he is. He is in the medical ward and is recovering well physically.”

“Mentallies?”

Charles looks at Skwisgaar. The Swede had spent the night going through just about every woman that wanted him. He looked exhausted, displeased.

“We don’t know yet,” Charles says softly. “He isn’t talking much. No one is allowed to see him until we find out what’s up.”

Pickles slams his fists down onto the table, nearly flipping over his plate onto himself. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit and you know it. He spent so much time alone and we just got him back. We can’t fuckin’ leave him alone again! He’s gonna go fuckin’ crazy!”

“I know, I wish there was a better way, but we have to make sure he isn’t a danger to you all-”

“He wouldn’t hurt us, Charles. Fuck, do you actually hear yourself? You think Toki is doin’ this outta some sorta homicidal rage? He is hurting, and you’re still the fucking robot you always were. What’re you gonna do, huh? Lock him up in some fuckin’ loony bin so you don’t have to look at him anymore?”

“Don’t you ever fucking imply I don’t care about him,” Charles hisses. “You all are the ones who waited months to find him, while I was working my ass off trying to deal with you idiots AND find him at the same time. You had to be convinced to save your own fucking bandmate. Don’t you find that sad?”

Pickles stands and tosses his plate in Charles’ direction but misses. That’s all Nathan needs to see. He would’ve hit the mark if he wanted to. It shatters against the wall and leaves a grease stain. Charles didn’t even flinch.

“Guys. Please,” Nathan is close to begging. “We don’t need this shit right now. We need to make sure Toki is okay. Please.”

For a moment, the only sound is of heaving breaths and what Nathan swears is Charles gritting his teeth. Pickles and Charles are still locking eyes and refuse to look away, daring the other to do something. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles says finally. “That was uncalled for.”

Pickles bites down on his lip before averting his gaze. “Same. I’m sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s okay. I think we’re all going a bit insane right now.” Charles laughs after he says this but no one else does, because they all know it’s true. Toki was locked in a hospital room and they were falling apart right beside him. Maybe they all needed to spend some time locked up.

“I thinks we all might needs to see Twinkletits.”

Murderface tilts his head at this. Skwisgaar was the last person to admit defeat like this. “Why? I mean, I don’t dischagree, but..?”

Skwisgaar buries his head in his hands and lets out a groan. “The worst things is happening.”

“Nightmaresch? Panic attacksch?”

“No. I can’ts even gets it up anymores.”

Nathan snorts, and before they all are aware of it, they’re laughing to the point that they’re crying. Even Charles is bracing himself against a counter, body shaking as he is overtaken with laughter. It makes way to tears one-by-one but even then they don’t move. They just allow this moment to stay where it is. As he is wiping his eyes, Nathan remembers his dream from last night. The word the whale spoke.

Catharsis.

He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows it when he feels it. He stands up and wipes his face once more, knowing that it did nothing to make him look better but it felt better anyways.

“I want to see him,” Nathan said. “I want to talk to him.”

Charles nods, putting his glasses back on with a sniff. “Yes, uh, I suppose that can be arranged. Just…” He trails off, unsure of what to say.

“I know, Charles. Catharsis.”

Charles shakes his head but he is smiling. “Peroratio.”

–

Everything is hazy in Toki’s dreams.

Usually, they are loose connections of things that happened to him. Magnus is in the pit with him, beating him with whatever is nearby. His parents are watching him in that dungeon, tightening the metal collar around his neck every second until he is choking and unable to speak. The worst are the recurring ones. One of the most common is the dream about his band, where he touches them and they crumble into nothing before his eyes. He sees them rot away like corpses in excruciating detail but he can do nothing to stop it. They die like everything else in his life that he cares about.

He wakes up in a hospital bed. His arms are covered in bandages and his wrists are bound to the bed by leather cuffs. 

Charles is standing over him.

“Hey,” Charles’ voice is that of one trying to coax a stray dog over, “Toki. Are you alright?”

Toki turns his head to see the rest of Dethklok sitting there, watching him with sad eyes. He looks back up at Charles.

“Why ams I heres?”

“You uh. You were harming yourself very badly. Eating… uh, biting yourself.”

“Oh.”

He remembers perfectly well but can’t speak his memories out loud. His mouth still tastes like blood, his own and Magnus’, mixed together. There was that dog bowl in front of him and in it, something wet and warm, meat of some kind. Toki had devoured it because it was all he had eaten in what felt like years, and Magnus just laughed at him. 

“That was some of my flesh,” Magnus said. “I wanted us to feel closer. We’re like brothers, you know. Both abandoned by that band. Both of us are bad omens, aren’t we? You kill all those that you touch. I find it beautiful.”

Toki was torn. He wanted to stick his fingers down his throat and get it out, but hunger won out. He digested it. Allowed it to become a part of him.

“I thinks I am sicks,” Toki says, “He dids somethings to me. His bloods got intos mine and its makings me acts like him.”

“No, Toki. What he did was, well, disgusting, but it didn’t…” What could he say? Saying it didn’t affect Toki was a lie and everyone could see it.

“You’re not like him at all. He was a douche who stabbed me and hurt you. You’re just hurting yourself.” Nathan says.

“Sames things. I wants to stops hurting things. We are the sames. I kills everythings I care about.”

“Dood, if that was true, we would’ve been dead a long time ago,” Pickles points out. “I think you’ve just had some shitty luck before but that isn’t who you are. It’s not your fault.”

“I wants my skins to go away,” Toki insists. “It is poisons.”

“No, Tokis. We knows that it is nots. Whats happens to yous and to us was Magnus’ fault.”

Toki groans, his back arching as he tries to get up from the bed but is unable to due to the restraints. “I befriended hims.”

“I know. At one point, we did too. Fuck, Toki, we let him into the band. Let him live with us. He was charismatic.”

Toki says nothing, just moans and continues to thrash. Charles goes to stop him but a hand on his chest prevents him from moving forward.

Nathan steps up. 

“Toki,” Nathan says. “We love you.”

The shock of this statement is enough to get Toki to stop moving. He pauses and stares up at Nathan reverently, mouth open. 

“Do you means that? You loves me?”

Nathan replies, but the voice that comes out is barely his own. It speaks with force and authority. The smell of salty sea air fills the room.

“We love you, Toki. Unconditionally. You don’t have to devour yourself to recreate yourself. This body, your body, can never be tainted.”

Nathan’s head jerks back as he comes back to himself. He means every word, but it feels strange to be taken over like that. 

“I… I amns not dirty,” Toki says, though this is mostly to himself. “I loves you all toos. A whole lots.”

He smiles, for the first time in months. “Thanks you.”

–

Toki is released from the hospital only a week after that. Nathan dreams of the whale every night before he comes back, but there are no words spoken. They float and stare at each other with understanding and pride. 

The last night before Toki is released, the whale speaks once more.

“Arete,” she says.

Nathan nods, and replies, “Thank you. For telling him what I wanted to say.”

He wakes up and is about to roll over when he remembers that his bed is not empty. Pickles sits up and adjusts his dreads so that they are no longer hanging in his face.

“Nate’n, we need to go get Toki,” Pickles whispers.

Nathan nods. “Yeah. We do.”

When he sits up on the bed, the scars on his arm twinge with pain but no longer open.

This, he knows, is the last time that these wounds will be caused by his own hands.

On his tongue, there is the taste of his own blood.

He spits it into the sink and watches it go down the drain.

Toki is waiting for them, and for as long as Nathan lives, he will never allow that man to taste blood again.


End file.
